The Way the World Ends
by AuburnCollision
Summary: In which Ino loses her memory and Shikamaru discovers his new resolve.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

It all started with one conversation.

* * *

><p>The moment Ino stepped through the courtyard entrance of the Nara household was the moment Shikamaru knew something was wrong.<p>

She didn't find much reason to come over. In fact, she had a tendency to avoid the Nara compound. At the risk of sounding paranoid, Shikamaru gave her the benefit of the doubt and convinced himself it was because they had completely different interests, which was _partly_ true. But in actuality, he knew it was because she didn't want to stir up any weird suspicion between their families about their relationship. Everyone _expected_ her to end up with either him or Choji. According to Ino, this was never going to happen.

As she so lovingly proclaimed at the tender age of seven, "The day I marry you is the day the world ends." Then, "Because I'm going to marry _Sasuke-kun_."

(To which Shikamaru replied, "_Right_. Can we go get lunch now?")

Ino approached from the distance, stepping onto the hardwood porch while she slipped off her sandals, silently taking a seat next to him.

Shikamaru didn't even have to ask what was wrong; he already knew, "You can't sleep either?"

Tomorrow, they would be walking into a minefield. He would be in charge of the Fourth Division with Gaara, Temari and Choji. She would be in the Fifth Division with Kiba and Shino.

The last time they were separated like _this_, Asuma died.

Things had been tense since then. Ino spent all her free time in the hospital working on medical ninjutsu. Choji was placed on a lot more missions outside the village with his father. Shikamaru spent the majority of his days in the coding branch, trying to figure out ciphers and puzzles that were far too cryptic and vague for his taste. They were all under a myriad of stress and their reunion time was sparse, if anything, nonexistent.

"…yeah," Ino admitted, "I went to find Choji too but he wasn't home."

Shikamaru shifted uncomfortably, "We haven't seen each other in a while," he pointed out, aware of his painfully awkward attempt at small talk, "how's work at the hospital?"

Ino huffed, rolling her eyes, "Since when did _you_ care about my work at the hospital?"

It was true. He shouldn't have even tried. Shikamaru always thought Ino was placing her efforts in the wrong direction and honing the wrong skills.

After all, she graduated academy with the highest grades, right after Uchiha Sasuke.

Even Shikamaru had to admit that she could've been great, if she wanted.

Sometimes, he didn't really understand. Other times, he didn't really want to understand. But it was different tonight.

He wished things could've been easier.

"Ne, Shikamaru," a small smile formed on her lips as she pulled her leg into her chest, crouched over, "remember when we were little and our biggest worry was who's house we'd go to for dinner?"

He relaxed slightly, feeling his shoulders unwind, "Yeah."

It hadn't been too long ago. Before Ino was smitten with Sasuke, the trio had spent almost every weekend together.

The Nara compound was _the place_ to go for dinner. Shikamaru never considered himself a sycophant but he knew Yoshino's elk was almost the best thing about living in Konoha. It was one of her many specialties that went unnoticed ever since she quit being a shinobi. Ino said it was a hidden gem and should stay that way. She'd been very, _very_ protective.

Then again, they hadn't had dinner at his place in years.

"Growing up is _so_ overrated," Ino continued, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, "I can't believe I was fooled by all the movies about sex, _sake_ and the whole no parents telling me what to do."

The thing was, Shikamaru understood completely what she meant. For as long as he could remember, all he ever wanted to do was grow up and grow _old_.

"When we're on missions, we have to take care of ourselves, our teammates and our subjects," she stated tacitly, wrinkling her nose, "—and when you're a medical shinobi, you're literally holding someone's life in your hands. _So _not what I signed up for."

Shikamaru kicked his legs and stared at the courtyard. A breeze blew through and swept Ino's long blond hair behind her back, revealing the earrings that Asuma gave the day they were all promoted to Chunin.

"Talk about responsibility," she conceded with a sigh, "it makes dinner at your place sound really, _really_ good right about now…"

Shikamaru smirked and stared up at the sky.

Stars blinked.

Everything would change tomorrow. Neither of them wanted to admit it. Both were banking on the opposite party to speak up first about it. Shikamaru knew all too well that some things were better off left unsaid.

But, there were a couple of other things that were just too priceless to leave alone.

He could've kept quiet. It wouldn't be surprising if he did. But he figured this much: they were entering a war. There were no absolutes, and he couldn't say he'd come out of this alive and unscathed. The chances were far worse when he calculated Team 10's probability of survival.

"Why did you cry for him?" And the words he didn't say: _Kiba was right. You barely knew Sasuke_.

It was the one question that Ino had been avoiding.

Truth was, she probably wasn't really sure why. Shikamaru bet it was because of a conjunction of things: after all, her village had been decimated, along with the people she cared about, her sensei was dead, and she was killing herself trying to catch up with Sakura. Sasuke was probably the tipping point that made her crash.

She'd been disillusioned. Sasuke was her sense of purpose; and she idealized him to perfection.

Ino turned, huffing in annoyance, "Please don't ask me stupid questions."

Shikamaru should have expected something like this. This _was_ Ino after all. Plus, he already knew the answer.

So he knew better than to press on, "_Fine_."

It'd been a while since they last saw each other. For two people living in the same village, it was alarming to see how little their paths crossed.

The sad thing was—neither of them really noticed until now.

Still, he could read her like a book. Sasuke was one hell of a taboo topic. Shikamaru sighed, feeling painfully responsible for bringing him up in the first place.

"You know," he started, "I was going to end up a mediocre shinobi. Earn a decent salary and marry a regular girl. Not too pretty, but not hideous. After that, I'd have a kid—a girl first, then a boy. I'd retire when my girl was married and when my son was independent. Then I'd play shogi and go everyday for the rest of my life."

Ino pursed her lips and looked inquisitively in Shikamaru's direction. He shifted under her watch and started to fiddle with his fingers, a habit he hadn't kicked up since him and the Konoha rookies returned from their failed mission to retrieve Sasuke.

"That was the kind of life I wanted," he conceded with a defeated sigh, "and then I end up doing my best, which is just…so unlike me."

The blond rolled her eyes, "_Please_. No one actually thinks their life will turn out like that. You wouldn't have become a shinobi otherwise."

She made a point. If Shikamaru _really_ wanted the easy way out of life, then he surely would have started up a business in medicine. The path was almost carved out for him from the day he was born: the Nara was a clan composed of fantastic healers also known for their uncanny knowledge in herbs. He'd marry, have two kids, let them inherit his business while he retired into old age.

"We haven't seen each other in a while, ne—Shikamaru?" Ino piqued innocently—well, as innocent as Ino could get.

"Yeah," he decided not to beat around the bush, "we've all been pretty busy."

Shikamaru and Ino didn't share many uncomfortable silences, but with all these talks about _living_ and _responsibilities_, he was really beginning to feel disjointed.

"Hey—Shikamaru?"

He blinked, "What is it?"

Ino smiled sheepishly, "If we both come back alive, let's get married."

Shikamaru blanched, really unsure where the hell this was coming from, "_What_?"

The smile disappeared from her lips almost too quickly as she creased her brows, turning a blind eye, mock pretentiously, "I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Oh so you guys were here!" Choji stepped through the entryway of the courtyard.

Shikamaru and Ino snapped their gaze over. Ino put on a thousand watt smile and patted the empty space next to her, "You couldn't sleep either, Choji?"

_The day I marry you is the day the world ends._

"Nah," he obliged and took a seat, "just knew you two would be awake. Thought you guys could use some company."

_Let's get married._

Shikamaru smirked because he already knew.

* * *

><p>This would become one conversation that neither of them would ever acknowledge.<p> 


	2. Fugue

**1. **Fugue

* * *

><p>This was a combination of bad timing and prolonging the inevitable.<p>

The corners of Ino's lips tipped up into a mischievous half-smile, "Oi—_Shikamaru_. Have you even listened a word I've said?"

He had. And he hadn't.

The battlefield was grisly but even so, they managed to find a bit of solace and comfort in the bare and desolation. At the moment, the fight was placed at a standstill and Team 10 was reunited once again in center of all this content and controlled chaos. The wind blew and swept up a wall of dust, causing Shikamaru to blink rapidly in succession, trying to hide a smile from forming on his lips. Things were peaceful, and he'd never seen this place so quiet before. But he knew better than anyone that it was the quiet, unobtrusive moments that were the most dangerous.

He proceeded to turn his gaze from the field back to his team.

He stared at her Ino's lips shamelessly. She brushed a lock of slick blond hair behind her ear while her other hand hovered cautiously over Choji's injured right leg. She was sweating profusely, droplets beaded over her eyebrow and she had all sorts of ugly scratches burnt on her face, but with no serious casualties to count. There was a cut on over her lip that made it swollen and when she looked up at him, Shikamaru averted his gaze to the splinters etched into the crevices of her fingertips.

It was like he'd been seeing through a veil of translucency for the majority of his life.

He almost considered this a bad cliché. Like the veil had been lifted, or something conventional like that.

"_Oi_!" She called again, knitting her brows. "I asked you if you were listening!"

"Man, Shikamaru," Choji smiled and scratched the side of his cheek, "you really need a hearing aid or something."

But like he suspected from the near beginning, this was where the scene came to a halt. This was where time fucked up every tragedy that could've ever been put off—this was where all these talks about _could'ves, would'ves_ and responsibilities made a turn and decided to screw him over for every whimsical thought of a future he'd ever considered to have.

He watched in horror as the ground beneath her imploded.

It took a snap of a moment for this to register on her face. But all he could think about were her words from the moment prior.

_Ne, Shikamaru. I'm serious_, and flashback—this was Ino wiping away the beads of sweat along her brow from before he began to blank out and stare shamelessly at her lips, _we're going home soon, aren't we_?

And then the words she never said, but he already knew by heart: (_let's get married, Shikamaru_)

This was one conversation that she'd always been serious about.

Because she didn't pinky promise just anything to anyone. She was the kind of girl who lifted her head up and beamed with a thousand watt smile, sunshine and morning glories—expectantly, and _knowingly_ with every assumption she made like _let's get married_ and **not** just _will_ you_ marry me_? She was the kind of girl who burst with confidence and honesty that he couldn't tell the difference otherwise anymore. She was the kind of girl who boosted every languid morale fiber in him when he didn't believe in himself; she always did, through and through.

She was the kind of girl who lit up the room as soon as she walked through the doorway; and she was the kind of girl who never failed to keep a smile on, no matter what kind of tragedy came to show.

She was the kind of girl Shikamaru had been missing.

Now, he could only watch in horror as gravel caved in on her body.

* * *

><p>Ino was broken.<p>

Shikamaru's sleeves were drenched with her blood and he was desperately clinging on to the last bit of life in the faint pulse she had in her neck. He needed her to _keep breathing, goddamn it_ because he can't—and won't let her die like Asuma-sensei did. He needed to make sure her _eyes stay open, woman_, because he's afraid if she doesn't, she'll wither away and he'll just blink on stupidly while she's passed on through the metaphorical gateway to heaven.

Then he'll just be here. On the battlefield. Alone.

Or something tragic like that.

His nails bled black with dirt and gravel from the persistent digging he'd gone through to get to her. And even then, it took at least three more people to actually pull her out of the gravel.

Choji carried her limp body in his arms.

Ino was littered with wounds. A broken leg. Three cracked ribs. Both wrists shattered to pieces. Not to mention—she had the ugly cuts that _no one_ should have had. (And Shikamaru already knew that these were the kinds of cuts that wouldn't heal easy—that these were the kinds of cuts that would turn into battle scars and give her something to look back on with a sad smile that would never suit someone like her)

"Fuck." This was the only thing Shikamaru could say that made any sense as he kneaded his temple with his knuckles, trying to make some kind of sense of this situation. "_Fuck_."

"Ino wouldn't give up so easily," Choji reassured him with a weak smile, "you know her."

He wasn't so sure anymore.

Ever since her proposal, he'd been walking on eggshells around her—not that it really mattered since they weren't even on the same squadron. But Ino let this play off as a mindless game of _never asked, never happened_.

This was one thing he'd never wanted to admit out loud.

Because he knew better than anyone that her survival meant some kind of trade-off in the end. Because he knew that the impact of the force from below rammed right into her head right before she collapsed into the ruins below. Because he knew that there was always a repercussion for people who survive being thrashed around like a rag doll (and she was thrashed—thrown around with her pretty blond hair).

And he _knew_ Ino—he knew she was always fighting, fighting, fighting, and _fighting_—and he knew that this was the kind of fate that went to those who worked too hard for their own good.

This should've been _his_ fate, not hers.

But he already knew.

"…fuck."

* * *

><p>They injected whatever they could into her body to keep her alive. He'd never seen so many tubes inside a person's body before; and from a family with a wealth of knowledge in medicine, Shikamaru couldn't even tell what half of the tubes were meant for at all. Ino had been going into convulsions in cycles for the past hour now and Shikamaru could only watch on the sidelines as the code team walked in each time to settle her down. The more time that passed, the less she convulsed at all.<p>

He didn't know what was worse: the fact that he was growing worried over her lack of movement now, or the fact that he was afraid what would happen when she really did wake up.

Shikamaru had never felt so helpless in his entire life.

"She'll be fine," Choji considered putting a hand on his friend's shoulder but Shikamaru didn't look like he was in that kind of mood at all so he retracted at the last minute before skin touched cloth, "Shizune said she'll be fine."

Shikamaru twiddled with his fingers. He hadn't picked up this habit since, well…the last time he talked with her—but _still_. This is one habit that shouldn't be haunting him.

"I know," he couldn't think of any other words to say and felt like he was becoming a broken record, "I know."

A moment of silence lapsed between them.

The folds of the tent rippled open and Shizune walked in. It took one glance for Shikamaru to understand his time in here was up. So he stood up first, "Let's go Choji," and reluctantly passed by Ino's bedside without another word.

* * *

><p>"Oi," Kiba approached Shikamaru in an empty medical tent (a trade-off in being the same vicinity with Ino), "Gaara says it's time for you to head back to the battlefield. Your team is waiting on your call."<p>

Reluctantly, he stood up, "Right. I'll be there."

Kiba considered saying something but he and Shikamaru had never been close and they'd never worked on close terms, "I'll watch over her if you want," he suggested vaguely, wrinkling his nose in slight agitation, "we're on the same team anyway and we'll probably stay here until morning."

Shikamaru considered this for a moment, "Thanks, Kiba—"

"—she woke up," Choji entered through the folds of the tent quickly.

Before there could be a pause of consideration, Shikamaru took off.

* * *

><p>Ino looked just as broken and damaged as before. The only difference was her eyes were open this time.<p>

Choji had followed hesitantly from behind with Kiba. They both paused at the folds of the tent and exchanged halfhearted glances.

From the blankness in her eyes, Shikamaru could already deduct the kinds of repercussions. He never considered himself a hopeful, but at the same time, he wasn't much of a cynic either. This left him somewhere in between the two extremes and so, with whatever little bit of expectation, he walked to her bedside while she followed him closely with her eyes.

Then she said the words he never wanted to hear:

"You're supposed to be Shikamaru—right?"


	3. Resolve

**A/N:  
><strong>I finally wrote an outline for this story and it'll start officially next chapter!

_btw_ this is irrelevant I found out one of my stories got plagiarized and I am absolutely _fuming_ -_- Officially blacklisted that idiot on my profile.

Not a good day. Horrible day.

* * *

><p><strong>2. <strong>Resolve

* * *

><p>The first time they met was on a broken September morning.<p>

From what Shikamaru could recall, it'd been an awful, _dismal_ and overcast day. Shikaku had pushed his only son off to the Yamanaka household and insisted that he'd '_take care of Inoichi's girl_' because '_her birthday is tomorrow_'_—_to which Shikamaru countered, "but it's my birthday _today_." Sadly, his mother was far more adamant and unwavering while she slipped a black ensemble over Shikamaru's tiny body. Much to his chagrin, she insisted he'd go on his way instead of wasting time sulking around the compound.

He had no choice but to concede defeat.

* * *

><p>The first time he saw her Ino had been kneeling on the edge of a vanity, staring at her own reflection in the mirror.<p>

It was only seconds later that he watched in disbelief as her long, golden locks littered the floor of her very, _very _pink bedroom. Shikamaru wondered for the longest time how he could've possibly missed the kunai in grasp of her small and ineffectual hands.

Four-year-old Ino met his gaze in the mirror that sat atop her vanity and slowly turned around, the kunai angled to shred the rest of her locks off. With one foot propped on her chair, she stepped off the table edge with a wad of her long blond locks in one hand, holding onto the handle of the kunai with the other. _Rip. Tear. Break_; and so she threw her remaining locks onto the ground unwaveringly, a few strays still wedged in the sweaty crevices between her fingers.

Shikamaru blinked twice and tried to register all of this properly.

"Did you—" never in his life had he been caught off guard like this before; he _was_ four years old, after all, "did you just…"

He trailed off as her lower lip trembled.

"No," the word spilled from his lips, "_no_—please don't."

It took only that much for Ino to open her mouth wide and let out an agonized wail.

* * *

><p>Shikamaru learned years later that <em>that<em> was one birthday he was better off missing.

Ino's mother had passed away in the weeks prior. Inoichi held the funeral only a few days afterwards, which happened to coincide with Shikamaru's fifth birthday. The young Nara understood none of what was happening and took every little, inconspicuous detail with halfhearted tolerance: the black ensemble Yoshino slipped over his head, his father's uncharacteristic assertiveness (as opposed to his usual languidness), and the sky cracked in shades of gray.

Ino collapsed to her knees and cried; and he watched; and he watched; and he watched until she cried herself into a crumpled heap onto the floor—then he watched some more until she stopped crying, until her breathing evened out and he knew she was sound asleep. He would never say it today but he watched her for a few more minutes before he tugged her blanket from her blinding _pink_ bed and covered her tiny, fragile body.

Few people knew about her mother's passing. Shikamaru watched as they installed a shrine by the entrance of her house the following day. And from that day forth, each time she left for academy, she'd also bid a farewell to her mother while slipping on her sandals.

The worst birthday ever also turned out to be the one birthday that changed everything.

* * *

><p>"Uh…yeah," Shikamaru answered awkwardly, painfully aware of the blankness in her face, "that's right. Do you—um—remember me?"<p>

He'd never stumbled over his words so quickly before; and this was one question he never wanted to ask.

She faltered and pursed her lips—but only for a split second; Ino beamed almost too quickly and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Shikamaru was taken off guard by her candidness but he shouldn't have been surprised at all. Ino wouldn't be _Ino_ if she didn't have a smile on half the time, even with all the broken bones and wears and tears in her body. As a means of distraction, he averted his gaze to the nasty gash dangerously deep in the carotid artery of her neck.

From the moment Shikamaru was born, he spilled over books of human anatomy and herbs. It wasn't what he wanted, but Yoshino had been insistent so Shikamaru had little choice in the matter. So he spent days under the summer sun soaking up blood vessels and contours and curves. It didn't take him long to memorize; it was easy—almost _mediocre_. And he could've become a doctor if he wanted to, but that was far too mundane and _boring _for someone like him. So in a way, Ino was right (somehow, she always was)—he wouldn't have become a _shinobi_ had he really, genuinely wanted to be average.

But the wound screamed and he closed his eyes slowly.

From top priority to bottom priority were all the arteries in the human body—beginning with the aortic in the heart. A medical shinobi wouldn't be able to save someone with a kunai stabbed through their chest if they wanted to. It would only take three beats for the blood loss to hit and for all the organs to shut down.

And next was the carotid artery: the life vein in the neck. _One minute_. Ino only had one minute between the _now_ and _the_-_if-hypothetical_ that scared him more than he wanted to admit aloud.

_She could've been dead_. Every second mattered. Every second _counted_. Had Shikamaru not made the extra effort to stop the bleeding, had Choji not been there, had they been alone at all—Ino would've been six feet under. There was no doubting this. Her limp body would be lying somewhere in the gravel on the edge of the battlefield with all that dark red spilling from the ugly shadows and crevices of the rocks.

He couldn't stop picturing it. And that terrified him.

"…_kind of_," she grinned.

She was lying.

Shikamaru would know. Ino always had the worst poker face.

"What do you remember?" he asked vaguely, feeling the palms of his hands go into a cold sweat.

Her silence confirmed his doubts; and so this became one question he already knew the answer to.

* * *

><p>They wound up back on the battlefield only two hours later.<p>

Litters of body spilled across the field and Shikamaru silently wondered when the he would find himself in the comforts of familiarity—the lush green of the forest in his backyard, the flash of brown as a doe sped through the trees, and a half-satisfied smirk as he strolled through and came upon the ditch with all the gravel caved in on the one man he had never hated so much in his entire life. These were comforts and these were things he _knew_ through and through. These were the things he had memorized down to every last shadow crease; and these were the things he was never threatened by.

With a kunai in his right, he tipped his head up to the sky and caught his own reflection, refracted and creased.

Choji smiled and wiped the hard sweat from his forehead.

Looking vaguely satisfied, Shikamaru slipped the kunai back into the pouch attached to his thigh and turned around fully with a hand propped against his hip.

This was everything he wanted.

Even through the broken and wasted, here was Temari checking her fan before taking off towards her brother—and here was _Gaara_, sand withdrawing all the sand into the gourd attached to his back—and here were all the survivors pulling themselves from the ash and fragment pieces, one hand outstretched, another hand helping the next chain link behind. This was not a plan; and this was not something anyone expected—some kind of beauty and unsuspecting teamwork in the midst of all this ugly, _ugly_ warfare.

But then again this was called _war_—not a fairytale— and war always meant casualties. And there were too many to count this time around.

To the hundreds of _shinobi_ who gave their life away on a mere thought for the future. To the hundreds of broken bodies lying lifeless on the ground; to the flames of Konoha—and the cycles that would always follow afterward.

This was for the kids who were fifteen and fighting on the frontlines; this was for the kids at home who prayed so hard until their eyes bled tears, until their throats constricted and the sobs poured into unrelenting cries of agony. This was for the kids who pushed up their forehead protectors and held their kunai out with a half smile as they accepted an inevitable fate while the sky above them exploded into bursting reds and crimsons.

This was for the kids who were lying on the ground lifeless.

"It's over," here was Shikamaru staring up at the sky—_blue_.

Blue like Naruto's eyes. Blue like _Ino's_ eyes—blue with the promises of a new day tomorrow dawning, something hackneyed and overplayed like that phrase; here was Shikamaru reaching his hand up unsure of what he was reaching for, and when he closed his eyes, he could see it again, and again.

_Blue_, _blue_, blue.

"Thank God."

A breath as he opened his eyes to meet Choji's gaze, "I'm going to do it."

An arched brow, "Do what?"

And here was Shikamaru throwing away the entire rulebook he knew; here was Shikamaru living in the hackneyed and stupid _goddamn_ clichés he always hated.

"It's impossible to forget something completely," Shikamaru stated, "eventually, it'll come back. They're called memories for a reason. This isn't the kind of memory loss that'd last forever. It isn't..._alzheimer's_."

Choji opened his mouth to say something; to tell his best friend the truth, to tell him what Shizune mentioned in his absence, to tell him what Kiba said after his departure from the tent, but instead, Choji pursed his lips and suppressed a soft sigh.


	4. Memory Inconsistency

**3**. Memory Inconsistency

* * *

><p>He spilled over text over subtext of psychogenic amnesia.<p>

Shikamaru lay out discontentedly on the library table, feeling every languid muscle fiber in his body stretch taut. His face was halfway hidden in the arch of the textbook in hand, shielding his eyes from the bursting sun that filtered obnoxiously through the window by their table. Following suit, Choji sighed unenthusiastically and buried his face into his arms, chair screeching back against the tile floor as his book toppled against the surface of the table from his limp grasp.

They'd been at this for the past four hours, maybe more. And that hardly accounted for the sheer number of days they'd been at the library since their return from the battlefield. Shikamaru always had trouble staying awake for long and this turned out to be no exception. His onslaught of renewed resolve lasted for about the first two days in their return before it faded into a seed of halfhearted doubt and borderline defeat. He couldn't keep this up—but he tried his best and did what he could and continued pouring over these words until everything ended up sounding the same.

There were no absolute answers in these books. Only facts painted over numbers that meant absolutely _nothing_ in the long run.

And _Ino_.

It was the little, peculiar idiosyncrasies that _fucked_ with Shikamaru's mind the most. The stupid anecdotes Sakura would tell him—how Ino couldn't remember anything for long, that the pink-haired kunoichi would have to constantly remind her best friend that she was in _Konohagakure_—how Ino couldn't remember how she ended up in different places, and most of all, how Ino couldn't remember anyone, _anything_—not even her family. Her short-term memory was damaged; but that was almost a given considering the force of the impact.

It just never accounted for the long-term memory loss.

"Have you seen her yet?" Choji asked, voice muffled into his folded arms.

Shikamaru grunted.

Truth is, he'd been avoiding her. He'd always been exceptionally good at hiding from his problems (in the shadows, so to speak). He knew their paths were bound to cross eventually but for the time being, he preferred to lock himself up in the Nara family library, trying to find a goddamn _reason_. People stopped by occasionally but few actually understood the extent of what was going on. Naruto was still out there somewhere on the battlefield (the dobe had always been good at cleaning up the messes other people left behind, which never quite explained the mess that was his apartment) and Sakura never stayed in the village for long, always by Naruto's side.

Shikamaru had never been much of an "_up-stander_," or whatever the hell that meant.

After all, he'd always been the one watching all the bullying unfold since he was seven. It started with Choji and the only consolation Shikamaru had given himself was to at least pull his new friend out of that pitfall after all those insensitive fat jokes. Kids were probably the biggest assholes and even he knew that at such a tender age. He was languid, _tired_ and far too removed for a seven year old—and he learned since then that neutrality was _easy_; drama was _annoying_ and troublesome. But that didn't mean had had no conscience; and his friendship was the most he could give to Choji.

But Ino would never be that kind of girl.

Ino was _the_ up-stander.

She was the one who picked Sakura up from the dust. Shikamaru would be damned but he was almost sure that pink-haired blossom wouldn't be where she was today had it not been for Ino. _Ino_—who chased away Sakura's bullies—and Ino who chased away Sakura's insecurities and monsters.

He was always kind of jealous of her—jealous of her capacity to _give a damn_. She was compassion personified and always shielded herself with indifference in the form of narcissist conceit and just plain _ignorance_. But he knew better than anybody in the world that Ino should've been born to be an actress.

She could've fooled anyone with that smile.

"Why couldn't it have only been retrograde," Shikamaru muttered under his breath, "why the hell did it have to be _psychogenic_?"

Truth be told, he already knew the answer.

Long-term memory loss was rare in average civilians, but in the _shinobi_ world, it seemed to be some unexplained anomaly. Granted, there'd only been ten recorded cases of this kind of memory loss in Konohagakure history, at least seven of these cases were _shinobi_. The same seven that occurred prior to the second and third shinobi war.

_Psychogenic_.

(It just left a bad taste in his mouth)

It wasn't just the impact from the implosion, Shikamaru learned; and it wasn't just from getting thrashed around like a rag doll.

It was the war.

They were _only_ fifteen—fifteen and fighting. Fifteen and taking lives.

Fifteen years young with blood on their hands.

They were only kids, and this was the kind of fate that fell to their hands.

Traumatized. _Really_. Her candid smile back when Shikamaru asked her if she still remembered him could've thrown anybody off.

(After all, Ino was a fantastic actress)

He pushed back the textbook onto table and shielded his eyes languidly with his forearm, grinding his teeth, "I should've seen this coming."

_We're going home soon, aren't we?_

"Goddamn," he breathed in.

_If we both come back _alive_, let's get married_.

"God_damn_," and breathed out.

* * *

><p>Shikamaru perused through the streets of Konoha with expectant nothingness, his walk languid and slow until the sun from above fell below the horizon. The sky bloomed in shades of red and orange and Shikamaru stared and <em>stared<em> until those colors embedded themselves in the shape of stars and cosmos flowers in shades of purple and blue in his peripheral vision. And then he continued perusing until he found himself at the high-rise arch that overlooked the village.

He took a seat at the edge, sliding his legs through the gaps between the handlebars.

Shikamaru surveyed the rooftops of the village with disdain.

Everything was newly furbished. Ever since Pein's attack on the village, it'd been all about picking up the pieces and rebuilding a new world. It was almost a miracle to see all those dead being brought back to life—

—then again, it was _only_ a miracle. And that was all it was meant to be in the end.

"_Man_, you need to stop sulking."

Kiba materialized from the distance with no Akamaru, plopped down next to Shikamaru, crossing his legs Indian style. Dog-boy relented an irritated sigh and closed one eye, peering over, "You're just breeding gloom. It's kind of contagious, you know. I can smell it a mile away, not to mention you're a total eyesore. It'd be nice if you—_you know_—stopped this."

Shikamaru grimaced.

"The whole feeling sorry for yourself act isn't doing you any favors," Kiba continued offhandedly, shifting his gaze to the high-rise rooftops, "_especially_ not with the ladies."

Shikamaru stretched his arms out, feeling each muscle fiber stretch taut as he sank into the concrete, eyes raking the sky as he opened his mouth to retort, "Like I give a crap."

Kiba snorted, "Right. I should've expected that much."

They weren't good friends. Even considering him a childhood friend was pushing it. Outside of skipping academy together with Naruto and Choji, they hardly knew each other. Shikamaru could barely consider Kiba an acquaintance and he _knew_ there was a reason why he didn't associate himself with dog-breath. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Kiba always knew the right way to get under his skin, to get under _anybody_'s skin—because Kiba was known for asking the questions that nobody else bothered to (or dared to) ask.

"She told me about the proposal."

Shikamaru blanched and sat up almost too quickly with a grunt, all the blood flushing into his face as his cheeks tinged pink. Kiba continued staring at the sky baked in shades of red and scratched the back of his head sheepishly while he pulled his feet in closer. They sat in a fleeting awkward silence and Shikamaru stared at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation or _something_ worthwhile.

But then he wondered why the hell Ino would confide in someone like _him_?

Kiba narrowed his eyes in the form of a playful glare as he finally averted his gaze, "You are—_no offense_—dense as hell."

Again, he remembered why he hated dog-breath so much.

Kiba always asked and pointed out the things nobody else would dare say aloud. Things like, _Ino—stop crying! (You barely knew Sasuke)_. And Shikamaru couldn't tell whether it was because he was just plain _stupid_ or because it was because he didn't give a shit about what other people thought about him.

"Ino always knew nothing would happen if she didn't speak up first," Kiba conceded quietly, "the war terrified her. For a while, she was convinced she wouldn't come back alive. Did you even know?"

Shikamaru didn't.

Apparently, there were a lot of things he didn't know about Ino.

* * *

><p>That night, he returned to an empty compound.<p>

He tossed his keys carelessly into the string basket alongside his bedroom entrance.

He peeled off his shirt first, a gentle wave of cold air kissing his sweat soaked skin. He followed with his pants which pooled around his ankles in a pile that he kicked away indifferently to an unsuspecting corner of the room. Finding his sleeping shirt tucked away under his pillow, he stuck his arms through the appropriate holes and fitted the last one over his head.

He collapsed onto his bed and propped his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

Stars blinked.

Well, _almost_.

These were the kinds of plastic stars that Ino pressed against his walls when she was nine. It was photoluminescence at best—but Ino was thoroughly charmed by these artificial stars. Years passed and most of these stars peeled off on their own but the few that did remain were the ones stuck to his ceiling.

Back when it still mattered, Ino would sneak in through the back, over the walls that led to the Nara courtyard, and replaced these stars; but ever since _Sasuke_ entered the picture, and ever since they began to drift apart with all these social obligations, she stopped coming over. She stopped caring. These were the kinds of things that stopped mattering to them in the long run and Shikamaru quietly wondered how he could've possibly missed the signs. The stars, the dinner parties, the playdates. For a guy with an IQ higher than 200, it was almost ridiculous how little he noticed up until this point.

Maybe Kiba was right.

Shikamaru shrugged the thought off.

There was some shuffling in the back.

He arched a brow, turned on his side and spared a glance at his door. His parents couldn't have been back soon. Shikaku, Yoshino and the entirety of Team 10, along with family and friends were out for dinner. And they were notoriously known for taking their sweet time. Back then, they'd left Choji, Ino and Shikamaru in the Nara compound while they went out but over the course of these eventful years and with all the growing up they'd done, their parents had stopped worrying.

Inoichi had been handling things fairly well with his daughter. But a lot like Ino, he was also known for being a fantastic actor. Shikamaru made a mental reminder to visit him some time and ask how he was doing.

He pushed himself up from his bed and exited the room, strolling down the corridor quietly.

It took him only a few seconds for him to reach the courtyard, where he caught sight of a very familiar looking blonde sitting in the pool that _was_ the koi fishpond.

Shikamaru blinked inquisitively and paused at the edge of the floorboard, leaning against the shaft that held up the canopy over the hallway. The image was nothing short of absurd and he probably would've owned up to a laugh or two had it not been for his concern over the fish that may or may not have been dead in that same pond.

But the fact was—_she_ had been able to climb over the wall with no memory of her shinobi existence.

_Muscle memory;_ he mouthed the words quietly underneath his breath. Though, he was almost sure Ino didn't remember the koi pond being there, considering the fact that it was only installed after Pein's invasion and subsequent destruction.

The blonde veered her gaze over to him and pushed herself up from the pond.

"_Shikamaru_—right?" she stated, taking one step out of the water, followed with the other foot, "I'm Ino."

It took him a while for this to register, "I know," and he opened his mouth to say something more but in that moment of hesitation, he realized he might just say something wrong and lose her completely.

Ino approached him in her wet mess of a t-shirt—technically, the same t-shirt Shikamaru had but in a vivid shade of orange as opposed to his lackadaisical green. She seemed to register the same thing as she turned her gaze from her shirt to his, most likely wondering how in the world they matched something like this coincidentally.

Then again, even shinobi had their casual days. And seeing Shikamaru wearing that same black shirt everyday prompted Ino to go out of her way to buy him several copies of the shirt he was wearing now. "_Green because it suits you_," she'd said at the time, "_green because your clan owns that section of the forest with all the doe and deer_." Green because ever since Shikamaru got that Chūnin vest, Ino had convinced herself that _that_ was the color that belonged to him.

"I don't really know why," she started awkwardly, scratching the back of her head, "That wall looked so familiar. I just…felt like I should climb it. Stupid, right?"

But the words were screaming to him—_muscle memory_.

"I should really go though," she followed with a sheepish smile, "I'm wet and gross, and I have to change."

"Stay," Shikamaru said almost too quickly, "I'll give you a spare change of clothes. Just, um—_stay_."

She looked only halfheartedly surprised. Shikamaru shifted all his weight to one leg, unable to hide the very apparent flush in his cheeks as he turned his gaze to the floor.

* * *

><p>He led her down the corridor but she took off first and found her way to his room on her own, turning her heel gracefully while he watched in surprise from behind. When he finally caught up with her, he found her standing at the edge of his bed, on her tiptoes as she reached for the stars printed against the high ceiling of his room. She shifted all her weight to one foot as she lifted one leg back, leaning forward as she finally made contact with one.<p>

Shikamaru shuffled towards his dresser and pulled out a pair of green trousers back from his Genin days along with a shirt identical with the one he had on right now.

"Here," he held it with his arm outstretched as Ino settled her stance, jumping off the edge of his bed as she took it into her arms.

"Warm," she commented wryly, hugging his clothes to her chest, "just came from the dryer?"

"Yeah," he answered her question awkwardly, leaning down to pick up a random kunai spilled over the floorboard of his bedroom; it would be a travesty if Ino actually ended up stepping on it and he wasn't exactly prepared for their impromptu meeting so cleaning his room wasn't very high on his list of priorities. That went along with the spare pair of pants he'd kicked carelessly into a corner earlier before she came.

When he stood back up, he tried not to flinch as he found a very half-naked Ino in her undergarments pulling his shirt over her head.

"_Oi_," he snapped, covering his eyes indignantly, "warn me when you do that!"

Ino grinned apologetically and slipped her shorts off as they crumpled into a heap around her ankles, leaning forward so that the hem of his green shirt strategically covered her boy shorts, "Sorry."

Truth is, Shikamaru had probably seen her in less. Considering the number of missions they'd been on, and considering the fact that most of these missions went over night, they were bound to have been half naked in front of each other at one point or another. Ino had always been rather proud—and she should've been because she dedicated time in sculpting her body the right way. She had the whole _you only live once_ philosophy embedded in her genes and that went along with the purple midriff she traded for when she turned fifteen.

Muscle memory. She fell into comfort around him by instinct.

She pulled up his shorts and placed her hands on her hips, "I'm done. You can take your hands off your eyes now."

Shikamaru reluctantly obliged and conceded a soft sigh, rubbing the pressure point on the back of his neck while he turned his gaze towards Ino, who was still staring up at the stars attached to his ceiling.

"Those are really nice," she pointed out with a half smile as she made her way towards the door of his room, "you have good taste."

Ino departed his room without another word.

Shikamaru stared at those stars for an extra half second before taking off behind her.

* * *

><p>By the time they came back out, the stars outside were blinking.<p>

Ino wedged her fingers underneath her thighs and leaned forward, smiling effortlessly as her gaze shifted to those high above. Shikamaru watched her for a moment before taking a seat next to her, following her gaze.

She had always been headstrong and reckless but if there were one thing that could truly calm her down, it was these stars. People never gave her enough credit for her fantastic memory and she could not only recite every flower family along with multiple variations, but she could also name all the constellations from dusk to dawn. These were the kinds of stupid things that could take her breath away, _easy_. Her weakness, so to speak.

Ino was somewhat of a stargazer.

"I used to have this dream," she started, "that there would be these…things chasing me. I would run so fast—that the moment I jumped, I was high in the sky, speeding through the clouds, trying to touch the stars."

Shikamaru averted his gaze over but Ino had her eyes glued to the sky.

"—but it was only a jump and I ended up falling back to earth anyway."

Ino brushed a lock of hair pin straight hair behind her ear and slipped her fingers from underneath her thighs, brushing them against the wrinkles of Shikamaru's shorts. She pulled a knee into her chest and cradled her chin at the crook, "Those things would find me when I fell back and I realized they weren't really what I thought they were. Not monsters."

She looked over at him and smiled, "They were my friends. Weird, huh?"

Shikamaru stared at her lips shamelessly.

"Yeah," he conceded, "weird."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes while Shikamaru thought desperately of something to say—_anything_. They were teammates; they'd gotten along before all of this nonsense and he could've even brought up what happened during the war—and most importantly, the _night before the war_—when she'd given him that proposal with a smile to kill.

"Thanks for not asking me what I remember," Ino stated, suddenly, "you know, it's kind of been getting on my nerves. And that pink-haired girl with the huge forehead doesn't seem to let it up. It's like she thinks I have the attention span of a goldfish or something because she keeps asking me if I know where I am every five minutes."

Shikamaru smirked, "It's only for your sake, idiot," and made a mental note that Ino had said something like _forehead girl_, which must've meant _something_.

Ino grimaced uncharacteristically, "_Please_. Like _I_ need to be reminded."

Her memory was improving.

But there was something Choji wasn't telling him. Shikamaru always knew something was wrong and could read his friends _easy_. His best friend was keeping something from him and Shikamaru wanted to know, but was terrified to ask.

"Sorry…how did I get here again?"

And then Ino would say something like that—and left Shikamaru feeling completely winded.

He relented a sigh and turned his gaze to the cobblestone of the courtyard, "You, um…accidentally fell into that koi pond," he motioned lazily towards the pool along with the wet footprints still fresh in the ground, "then I gave you some spare clothing."

Instinctively, they both spared a glance at the green shirt she was wearing. The same green shirt _he_ was wearing.

They looked away.

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah _right_. I did not."

"Yeah—" Shikamaru grunted slightly, unable to hide his amusement as he lifted his gaze, "you kind of did."

"No," Ino snapped indignantly, "I _did_ not. That's just—_stupid_."

"Well you do tend to do a lot of stupid things," Shikamaru admonished with a reflective smile, "remember the first time we took the Chūnin exams? We bumped into a really powerful member of the Hyūga clan—and you decided to _distract_ him with your _good looks_. Needless to say, he saw right through you and we wound up in the same place where we started."

Ino knit her brows, a tinge of pink flushing her cheeks, "_Oi_. How about you tell me a good memory instead?"

Shikamaru hesitated—and allowed himself the luxury of forcing a weak smile at her request's expense.

"Well, one time, we were trying to infiltrate this lucrative, underground trade system for the headman's daughter, who was kidnapped—and things got messy. I made a hostage exchange in her place but—_Baji_, the guy in charge of this underground tunnel, sealed my voice with his jutsu. So I couldn't give you the signal to find me."

Ino's eyes widened, "So what happened?"

"You could tell," Shikamaru said slowly, "you could tell something was wrong the moment he put that seal over me during the exchange. And you took over my mind with your jutsu at the right moment to find out where Baji was taking me…"

"Without a signal?" she asked, arching a brow.

Shikamaru smirked and leaned back onto the floorboard, propping his arms behind his head as he stared up at the sky, "Yeah—you just knew."

Ino turned her gaze back up at the sky and Shikamaru stared at the back of her head, sincerely wondering how different things would've been had this _not_ happened.

_Ino always knew nothing would happen if she didn't speak up first_.

"Ne—Ino?"

She blinked and turned to look at him, "What is it?"

Shikamaru opened his mouth to tell her something like _You know I'm always going to be here for you, right?_—or something like _You're not alone—and if you need to talk about something, I'm right here. We don't even need to talk. You can just sit there and we can just…be quiet together or something_—and even _The night before the Shinobi War, you proposed something to me. And I just want you to know I won't let something like that happen again_. _I know I can be dense—but I just…_

_I really think I want to know you better.  
><em>

But everything was far too trite and cliché for a boy like him so instead, he veered his gaze to the sky and watched as those stars winked back at him, "Never mind. It's nothing."


End file.
